A subconscious thought
Oh yeah, dreams are weird ones. Sometimes they're nice, y'know? I'd like to have one where he... y'know, him, yeah? Hahaha, yeah, you know. Anyway, yeah, he and I are just, I don't know how to describe it, peering through some pointless, maybe floor-to-ceiling, giant window, into the night, over the canal, and I hold him close and we just look out. Then... yeaaah, I shouldn't continue. Anyway, I get this other one from time to time, bit more your speed I'd presume, one about uh... a masked man, I'll say. He'll chase me, we're outside, on a crisp green hill, in fact. He chases me and chases me, until we come to a pass between these two mountains... huge fuckers, going farther up than you could possibly see, in a long, dark range that I somehow never see until that point. The range extends to either side, seemingly forever, and the sky above it is blanketed in dark clouds. He always stops chasing me at that point, he knows he's chased me far enough and his job is done. Beyond the pass is a barren country. The soil is grey and dry, there is no sun in the sky. I fall to my knees. I get so mad, way madder than I’d ever have gotten in real life. Without thinking the words fly from my lips, I curse him, scream about how much I hate him and how much he cost me by driving me into this place. I rage for a long time. Then a second person comes, sometimes a man, sometimes a woman, sometimes old, sometimes young. They say they too were driven past the mountains, or that they wondered past them by mistake and can’t get back over. I always says the same thing: "Let’s hurt together." We latch onto one another, we scream or cry and say we want to see people who wronged us skinned alive. And more always come, a trickle first, then a flood, latching onto us, all of them clasping together and piling up into a giant, deafening mass of squirming bodies and eventually it’s huge, almost up to the clouds. And then there’s a rumbling, a massive shifting sound. The countless bodies start to rearrange, forming deep canyons of flesh that make up a horrendous, rage filled outline of a face. There’s a shift greater than any earthquake, it's rolling forward, pulling itself with enormous appendages made of the miserable, the bitter, the despairing. It inches and tumbles on, crashing down and dragging itself onwards with overwhelming, apocalyptic sounds. Heading for the mountain range, it’s heading back to the bright place with all its anger and hate and vengeances, and as much as it’s made of millions and millions of people, I always know we're still one thing, one thing with one will but all the hatreds of everyone buried in it. It claws its way on through, it's squirming and it's writhing, and it squeezes through and I understand. That man. It. It's not the Devil. That's what I thought at first... but it's not. It's...it's more like God. It's like if God hated everything. It heaves, it's coming. I think it’s almost strong enough to set out, to start moving. I think when it gets here the living will be no better off than the dead. But, it's fun to dream. Category:Creepypasta